Five Veils
by Argent Gale
Summary: This is an AU fic with Carol as a very wealthy socialite, with money to burn, but sometimes finding somebody to burn that money with can be difficult. Daryl is a high-end escort. He can make up to 10K a night sharing his company, and talents, with women who don't have time to fuss with romantic entanglements.
1. Chapter 1

The Valentino gown settled perfectly on her body. It caressed every curve, the lush fabric whispering secrets. It was worth every favor called in, every string pulled.

Glenn softly whistled, "Wow Carol. Just. You look gorgeous."

Carol smiled and spun to look at the back in in the 3-way mirror in her fitting room. The gown was very flattering. A deep, lush red. Valentino's signature red. It brought out the silver in her hair, deepened the blue of her eyes, and complimented her creamy skin to perfection.

She smiled. She had to admit, she looked damn good. It had been a very rough few months. After Rick broke her heart, she had shied away from the social scene fleeing to Monte Carlo to allow her wounds to heal in the privacy of her villa. This gala would be her first big social event since the breakup. She had thrown herself into planning it, down to every last detail. She was excited about the theme, Moulin Rouge. Sexy, fun, and hopefully the event of the season. It was just over a month away.

Carol's claim to fame was the Peletier name. The entertainment rags sometimes called her the Silver Fox because, like her mother, she went totally grey at the age of 25. It was to honor her mother that she kept her silver locks. She never even entertained the idea of coloring it. The lack of hair color certainly never prevented her from finding suitors. Thanks to the success of her father's aeronautical ventures, Carol would never want for anything the rest of her life. Any children she would have would want for nothing. The Peletier dynasty had their fingers in many pots. The space program. Defense. Commercial aircraft. Honestly Carol couldn't keep it all straight. Her father though always very loving, the business kept him traveling. He missed most of Carol's childhood. Sometimes Carol thought she would trade it all to have had a father that was there for the recitals and plays.

Wrapped in this exquisite gown, she was at the moment very happy to have the privilege of the Peletier name.

Sighing she reflected on how it was this very event that she was sure Rick would pop the question. They had been the "it" couple. Both from well-respected families. They looked like they were made for each other. The media had loved them. That was until for whatever reason, Rick decided New York City wasn't for him anymore and he took off for LA. Soon after it came out he had been dating a woman 15 years his junior behind Carol's back for three months. She never even suspected. She had trusted him with her whole heart and soul.

"So you like it then, Glenn?" Peering over her shoulder, she could see Glen's approving nod and wide grin. Glenn. Where would she be without him? Her long-suffering assistant and confidant. It was his suggestion she pursue snagging this vintage Valentino.

Carol's phone began to vibrate. Hastily she snatched it up reading the text: "Been here ten minutes. Where are you lady?" She saw who the text was from and groaned. With the excitement of the fitting, she had completely forgot about her lunch date with Michonne.

"Glenn, can you please call Michonne and let her know I'll be there in 20 minutes? Tell her lunch is on me." Glenn nodded and was already dialing the phone as he strolled from the room.

The representative carefully helped Carol out of her silken cocoon. There were just a few slight alterations, but she assured Carol the dress would be ready in plenty of time for the big night.

After showing the style crew out the door. Carol hurriedly dressed, dashed down to the lobby, and into the limo awaiting her outside.

Le Cirque was busy as usual, the lunchtime crowd murmuring in a low buzz as she was shown to her table. Michonne was there waiting, a glass of wine in hand. "A bit early to be drinking, isn't it?" Carol asked with a smile.

"You know what they say, its 5 o'clock somewhere." Laughing, Michonne rose and hugged her friend, enveloping Carol in a cloud of sandalwood and amber. "How have you been? How did the fitting go? Oh, I hope you don't mind. I went ahead and ordered you the lobster risotto. I know it's your favorite."

Settling in her chair, with a wide grin Carol replied, "Oh, the risotto! Thank you! Yes, the fitting went very well. I can't wait for you to see this gown. It's going to blow you away."

"Mmmhmm. I'm sure it will," Michonne replied after a sip of wine. "The question is, do you have a date to appreciate this said mind blowing gown?" She politely paused as the waiter placed their food before them.

A date. That was one thing Ms. Peletier did not have. She didn't really have time to with all the preparations. Her heart was still reeling and tender from the Rick debacle.

"Your long pause must mean the answer is no then." Michonne took Carol's hand. "You'll heal sweetie. Things will get better. I know it sounds like a really bad cliché' but you'll find love again." Giving Carol's hand one final squeeze Michonne sat up straighter, with an odd smile twisting her lips. A devilish smile.

Michonne. Carol had known her from their years at boarding school together. They had gotten in to trouble together. Suffered heartbreak together. They had a bond stronger than sisters. Right now Michonne's face had what Carol liked to call, "The Look". The Look happened when Michonne suggested they fly to Ibiza with the only clothes on their backs, passports and Carol's father's American Express card. The Look happened when Michonne suggested Carol take off her swimsuit top in exchange for a Corona at the (non-nude) beach when they were at St. Bart's. Carol braced herself for what The Look meant this time.

Michonne leaned in close, almost whispering. "I have a good friend, Andrea. She runs an agency that helps women out in your situation."

"My situation?" Carol was taken aback a bit. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean a fine, gorgeous women between lovers who needs a date to a very special, very important evening. And by date I mean a gorgeous hunk of flesh that looks good in a tux, speaks in complete sentences and knows the proper way to behave in social situations." Michonne smiled a wicked smile before ending with, "What you need, my love, is an escort."

Carol dropped her fork.

"Are you saying I need a…." she struggled to find the word, "Gigolo?" Her voice was a high pitched squeak. She could feel her cheeks burning. Surely Michonne didn't think her THAT desperate.

Michonne started laughing. "Well, if that's the word you're used to. Andrea sure as hell wouldn't appreciate it. Her escorts are the best of the best. Former professional athletes, models, maybe a B-list actor or two, trust fund babies. Trust me Honey, there are no losers in this bunch."

Carol took a sip of water to compose herself then stated, "Sounds like you are speaking from experience."

Michonne only smiled. "Maybe. But trust me when I say Andrea is the picture of discretion. If you decide to meet with her, your privacy will be respected. Trust me on that. I've known her for a long time. She's a classy lady and she runs a very tight ship." Reaching into her bag, Michonne pulled out a business card on heavy cream-colored stock. She slid it over to Carol. "Take this sweetie. If you change your mind and call her mention my name. You'll be in. She knows and trusts me."

Carol found it strange that as close as they were, this was the first time Michonne had mentioned this Andrea person.

Carol regarded the card. The script in a simple elegant font, printed in black ink: Five Veils. No address, no email, just a phone number.

Carol shook her head. "I don't think so Michonne. I'd hate to think I'm so desperate as to call for an escort."

"Think about it. No entanglements. No broken promises. Just an evening out with a very attractive man, focused on you. Doting on you. Wouldn't you like that Carol, after all you've been through?" Michonne paused smiling. "I would suggest you maybe hire an escort to my gallery soiree, to try it out. That way if it's…not your thing your big evening won't be ruined."

"I'll think about it." Carol carefully slid the card into her wallet where she was sure it would never again see the light of day.

Pausing to take sip of wine Michonne replied, "Just ask for Andrea, mention me, and the rest will be easy."

"Okay." Carol replied smiling, "Maybe I'll will." _Sure as hell won't_, she thought to herself taking another sip of water. At least it seemed to satisfy Michonne who started rattling on about her latest fashion show.

Carol forgot all about the little card until the end of the day, when she was switching her handbags and the little cream colored rectangle fluttered to the floor. She scooped it up. What could it hurt? If this Andrea was a friend of Michonne's she couldn't be THAT bad. It would be nice to show up with a nice arm piece. Show she had moved on in her life. Give the tabloids some eye candy.

Her fingers trembling, she dialed the number before she lost her nerve.


	2. Chapter 2

She found her hand trembling just the slightest bit while the line rang on the other end. They probably wouldn't answer. It was after six. She should just forget this folly. She was just getting ready to hang up when a cool, collected voice answered, "Five Veils." Nothing more. No good evening. No how may I help you.

Carol paused, caught off guard. She hated the phone. This is what she had Glenn for but she very well couldn't put him up to this. _Glenn can you stop by Dean and Deluca for some coffee. Oh, and while you are on your way could you please call this mystery number and arrange an escort for me. _

"Hello?" the voice on the other end repeated, a bit tersely.

Carol composed herself, took a deep breath, and answered, "Yes. A friend recommended your agency. I am in need of some company for a rather expansive affair. It has to be just right. The person has to be just right."

"Who referred you?" the voice responded coolly.

"My…my friend Michonne, she, uh, she's friends with Andrea."

"One moment please." With that the line went silent. It seemed like an eternity before the voice came back on the line. "She will meet with you tomorrow, 2 p.m. Do you have a pen?" Scrambling, Carol managed to find a pen and grabbing a scrap of paper, responded a breathless, "Yes." The voice rattled off the address, asked if Carol was familiar with the area. When Carol said she was, the voice very calmly informed Carol that if she was late not to bother calling back to reschedle. Ms. Andrea did not, in any way, tolerate tardiness. Then the line went dead.

Carol stood quietly, staring at her phone, her heart a trip hammer in her chest. She felt oddly exhilarated. Immediately she texted Michonne, who responded with a simple, "Good for you. You won't regret it."

After providing Glenn with a lengthy list of minor odds and ends relating to the fundraiser to keep him occupied and out of her hair, Carol now had the task of filling her time before her appointment. What should she wear? She didn't want to come off as desperate. She stood before her expansive closet at a loss. She didn't want to dress too conservative, but she didn't want to be too trendy either.

Finally she chose a Stella McCartney tunic and paired it with some leggings and her trusty Prada boots. She critiqued herself carefully in her mirror. She looked pulled together, confident, and certainly not desperate. She went light on her makeup, choosing her trusty Nars lipstick in Carthage. It was the perfect pink/nude. A quick brush of mascara to bring out her eyes and she was ready.

For discretion she opted to hail a cab, not bothering with her driver. The fewer people that knew about this debacle the better.

In no time at all the cab pulled in front of an unassuming brownstone on an unassuming street in the Chelsea district. Paying the driver, Carol stepped lightly from the cab. She could still back out. Leave and nobody would be the wiser. She could tell Michonne there was just nobody to her taste. She found her feet carrying her to the door. She rang the buzzer on the intercom, stepping back and holding her hands almost primly to keep from fidgeting.

A smooth voice responded, "Yes."

Nervously, Carol swallowed and answered, "Ms. Carol Peletier here for my two o'clock appointment with Ms. Andrea.

Silence, then a slight click as the lock released.

Carol stepped through the threshold. She wasn't quite sure what she would see. Tacky gold fixtures with red velvet and cancan girls? Naked men lounging on chaises bound by collars and chains? A small part of her was disappointed to see it looked to be a typical lobby of a typical business. The usual potted plants. Some artwork on the wall. A tasteful chandelier hung from the ceiling. No signage. No nameplate. There was no elevator but a graceful staircase wound its way up to what appeared to be a mezzanine level.

_Here goes nothing_, Carol though with a grim determination as she mounted the stairs. Her boots sank into the deep plush burgundy carpet.

When she made it to the top, she came face to face with who she assumed she was speaking with on the phone. A trim doe-eyed girl, not much younger than she, with dark curls framing her face. She was wearing a tasteful Chloe dress. She extended her hand to Carol, "My name is Tara. I'm Andrea's assistant. May I get you something to drink? A coffee or tea? Water?

Carol's mouth was paper dry and water sounded heavenly. Gratefully she answered, "Yes, a water would be lovely. Thank you."

Smiling, Tara turned and disappeared into a side room, re-emerging with a bottle of Fiji. "Andrea will be right with you." She then sat at her desk and began working on her computer, as ordinary as any assistant to an ordinary executive.

Carol tried not to fidget as she waited. Then, given some unseen signal, Tara lifted her head and smiled, "Andrea will see you now. Right through there." She pointed to a set of elegantly carved oak doors.

She slowly pushed the door open, peering shyly inside before stepping fully into the office.

Andrea was nothing like Carol pictured. In Carol's mind a Madam would be a much older woman, maybe in her 60's, heavily made up and tackily dressed. Andrea blew this preconceived notion right out of the water. She was about Carol's height, lithe, with golden blonde hair upswept in an elegant chignon. Her navy blue Chanel suit fit her impeccably, her makeup subtle and flawless. She was smooth, cool, and elegant. She rose to greet Carol, rounding her desk and grasping Carol's hand in a firm, warm grip. "Ms. Peletier, I'm so pleased to meet you. You look lovely. Please sit."

Carol sank gratefully into a plush chair. Andrea settled back behind her desk and grabbed a stack of papers. Anyone looking in on this scene would think it was an attorney meeting with a client.

"Now," Andrea paused to look at her computer, "What brings you here?"

How to answer this? Carol paused than quietly answered, "Well, I have a rather important event in about a month and I'm a between boyfriends at the moment. I was told you could help me out." Andrea only responded with a slight nod.

"Okay. Let me tell you about our agency. I've been heading Five Veils for approximately four years. I pride myself in selecting the best of the best to escort women, such as yourself, to various social functions. Women who really don't want the bother of a relationship but need, for whatever reason, a male escort. I'm going to have you fill out a profile. After you do this, we'll go through some candidates that may be a good fit for what you are looking for. Also, even though I know who you are, I am going to have to run a full background check and I require a clean bill of health from your healthcare practitioner. The safety of my escorts is paramount. Will this be a problem?"

"No, not at all." Carol replied, a bit taken aback but understanding the need for such practices.

"Good," Andrea replied smoothly. "Now," sliding a stack of papers towards Carol, "Fill these out. The more honest you are the better your match will be. Better suited to your…needs." Andrea smiled.

Carol studied the questions. Height preference, eye color, hair color, build. Outgoing or more reserved. Really they were similar to questions one would find on an online dating site or matchmaking service. Then she got to the last page. Now those questions would not be on any dating site. At least not one she would be privy too. Blushing she scanned over the questions. _Good lord, really_? She filled out the questions as truthfully as she could and handed the pages back.

As if sensing Carol's shyness, Andrea smiled, "Don't worry. I won't say a word and neither will Mook." It was then Carol noticed a gorgeous Siamese cat curled up in a bed behind Andrea's desk. As if to drive home the point, Mook blinked his stunning blue eyes and yawned widely showing his needle sharp teeth. "Nothing leaves this office. Nothing."

Andrea scanned Carol's answers and smiled. "I think I have some great candidates for you. Reaching on a shelf behind her, she selected a trim black leather binder and placed it in front of Carol. "Go through this and tell me if there's anybody that catches your eye. Then we'll take the next step."

Carol's nervousness evaporated. Now she was just intrigued. What sort of a man would sell his company? Michonne had said that most of Andrea's escorts had money, so it wasn't like it was out of monetary necessity.

As Carol flipped through the pages of 8 x 10 glossy black and white photos, she had to admit there wasn't a loser in the bunch. Then one caught her eye. She actually felt her breath catch a little. Quickly she read the brief description. His interests included photography and art. He was a former model. She could see spending the evening with him, she could talk about art for hours. Blushing yet again, she turned the binder so Andrea could see her selection, "How about…him."

"Oohh." Andrea purred. "That's Daryl. You have very good taste. Let me pull up his profile and see if he's available."


	3. Chapter 3

Carol felt like she was going to jump out of her skin as she watched Andrea type away on her laptop. If Daryl wasn't available, that was it. That was the sign. The binder was full of very attractive men, but none of them appealed to her like Daryl did. If Daryl was unavailable, Carol would graciously thank Andrea for her time and walk out the door.

"I'm sorry, what evening shall you be requiring Daryl's companionship?" Andrea asked, looking up from her laptop. Carol paused for a moment before continuing, "Would it be okay if he escorts me to a low-key function first…to see if we get along?"

Andrea smiled and nodded, "Of course. What day would that be, Dear?" Swallowing hard, Carol replied "Friday. This Friday. Michonne is having an event at her gallery." Andrea resumed tapping on her laptop, paused then smiling at Carol stated, "Looks like he's available. Daryl hasn't really been taking on too many clients lately. I know he hasn't retired, but he's definitely slowing down." Andrea continued tapping away at the computer, then smiling, folded her hands and met Carol with a gaze that conveyed it was time to get to business.

"I will shoot him an email and then call him to set up and confirm your appointment. I believe now is a good time to go over our rules. For our escort's companionship, we charge a rate anywhere from $500 an hour up to $2,000. Daryl's fee is $2,000 an hour." Andrea paused to gauge Carol's reaction, but Carol's expression remained nonplussed.

"Money isn't a problem." Carol returned coolly. Her heart was doing somersaults. Her façade remained serene.

Andrea smiled. "Good. Very well, there is no time limit. You can book an escort for an hour or eight hours or a whole weekend. If you book one of our escorts for a time period that goes over 24 hours, that is called "Blocking." If you block an escort of your choosing, he may not engage in another client during that time, even if you aren't with him. Some clients block an escort for trips and such. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. A few of my clients have their favorites."

Carol couldn't imagine spending 24 hours with a stranger but she supposed some women who were very lonely would go to great lengths. Two or three hours would be time enough with Daryl.

Andrea continued with cancellation procedure and what to do if Carol felt she was in an unsafe situation. Andrea asked if Carol understood and if she had any questions. Carol nodded that she did understand and she had no questions, getting the feeling that her appointment was coming to an end. Andrea stressed all that she needed from Carol was a clean bill of health and made arrangements for a background check. As Andrea walked Carol out, they paused at Tara's desk where payment arrangements were made and Carol was assured that all charges to her credit card would come up as a discreet, nondescript FVLLC on her statement.

Shaking Carol's hand firmly, Andrea stated that she would be in touch as soon as she heard from Daryl, which would be by the end of the day.

As Carol exited the building, she wondered how she would be able to contain herself in the coming hours.

The morning's shoot had been a success. He felt he captured some stunning photographs in the park, in particular the group of children playing and laughing. He studied the face of the one little girl, her brown hair flying behind her as she ran with her friends. Her nose was dusted with little freckles, her green eyes sparkled with happiness. She had a joy for living. Not a care in the world but playing. After snapping some shots, he quietly approached her mother, asking if she would mind if he used the photos for a project. She had smiled and nodded enthusiastically. Thanking her profusely, Daryl handed her his card, asking the child's name. _Sophia_, said the mother smiling. _Her name is Sophia._ As he scrolled through the shots he realized selecting a few for the show would be a difficult choice.

The phone trilled, breaking Daryl's reverie. It never failed, whenever he was absorbed in a project, here came the distractions. After checking who was calling, he answered with a curt, "Yes?"

"Hello Daryl." Andrea's voice purred smoothly.

"Andrea. Haven't heard from you in a while. What's up?"

"I have a client here interested in you and was wondering if you would be up for taking on an assignment. Her name is Carol Peletier, a young socialite. I'm sure you've heard of her."

Daryl nodded, "I know the name. Can't place the face."

Andrea continued, "I emailed you some links. Check out her info and let me know if it's something you'd be interested in pursuing. You would be escorting her to a gallery function, with the possibility of a further assignment in the future at a larger function."

"You know I've been cutting back, Andrea."

Andrea responded curtly, "I know Daryl. I know and understand. If you want to refuse, please just say so I can get back to her."

Running his fingers through his hair, Daryl relented. "No. No, let me check her out. Can I get back to you in, say, an hour?" He could hear the relief in Andrea's voice as she replied, "That's perfect. Let me know in one hour. I'll talk to you then." The line went dead.

Daryl heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He had been easing away from his escort duties. He certainly didn't need the money, though the money was good. He thought back to the time when he had escorted a wealthy, well-known politician to her cabana in Barbados. She didn't want to be outed as a lesbian, so he was the perfect cover. He was paid a cool $100,000 to lounge on the beach for two days and take her to dinner while she and her girlfriend fucked each other senseless.

No, he did it because he loved women. In a way, he liked to think he provided an important service. There was also a part of him that got a thrill from having women pay for his company. An evening of his time. He had the pleasure of female companionship without the messy entanglements that sometimes involved.

Of course, his family knew nothing of his extracurricular activities. Daryl's pedigree was nothing to be ashamed of. His father was head partner in one of the largest and oldest law firms in Atlanta. His older brother Merle who, unfortunately, also lived in New York, was head of one of the largest brokerage firms in the country. Merle was the golden son who could do no wrong. He was like his father, ruthless and power hungry. Fortunately for Daryl, Merle had zero interest in the social scene, their social circles never crossed so Daryl was able to keep his little side job a secret.

Daryl hated the executive life, preferring the more carefree life of an artist. He had interned at his father's firm for exactly two weeks before walking out without saying a word. Daryl wasn't a mile down the road before his father called, enraged, threatening to disown him. Rather than listen to his father's venomous tirade, Daryl opted instead to calmly roll down his window and pitch the phone out of it. Daryl often wondered how long his father ranted before realizing there was nobody on the other end.

After that, Daryl didn't have contact with his father for a year.

Daryl fled the storm by taking off to Europe. Living in Brussels, traveling through France. He was able to live comfortably off of his trust fund before scoring a modeling contract with Prada. He coasted on those earnings for a while before returning to the States, settling in New York City, and happening upon Andrea and her special service. It was a match made in heaven. He could make a living taking care of wealthy women while being able to pursue his own artistic pursuits.

Flipping open his laptop, he opened the links Andrea provided. Who was this Carol Peletier? He knew he heard the name before but he couldn't put a face to it. When her picture came up, he recognized her. Peletier Industries heiress. Partial to domestic abuse charities. Why on earth a beautiful young woman would let her hair go gray was beyond him. She was attractive enough. Her blue eyes sparkled and held kindness in them. There were a few pictures of her on the arm of a very handsome man named Rick. He didn't recognize him at all but they made a stunning couple.

He scrolled through more pages reading her bio and various tidbits from tabloids. So this Rick character fucked around on her and broke her heart. That explained the need for his services. _What the hell_, he thought to himself. _She isn't hard on the eyes_. Maybe he could help her forget that broken heart for an hour or two. Actually, he found himself rather intrigued by her. The tabloids liked calling her "The Silver Fox". The fact he would be escorting her to a gallery function was an added bonus. He was always looking for venues to present his work. Seemed like a win-win situation.

He dialed Andrea and when she answered he simply said, "I'll take the client. Give me her information."


	4. Chapter 4

"Carol. Earth to Carol. Ms. Peletier!" Carol startled to attention. Glenn furrowed his brow. "Are you alright? You haven't been this distracted since you were having the Bentley delivered for your father's birthday. Have you heard anything I just said?"

Carol smiled thinly and shook her head, "I'm fine. I'm listening. I just have a lot going on with the planning and all. I'm sorry. Please continue."

With an exaggerated sigh, Glen continued. "As I was saying, Teuscher agreed to donate chocolates for the gift bags. The performers are a go. We have the music." Glenn pursed his lips before continuing, "Also you have a few messages from Mr. Merle Dixon. Three to be exact. I think you should return them. You know, he made an incredibly generous donation to your benefit."

Carol sighed, rubbing her temples. These past few days, good lord. The call from Andrea confirming her appointment with Daryl, her nerves with this benefit and now Merle Dixon.

"Was it Mr. Dixon or his assistant?" Carol sighed wearily.

Glenn replied in a clipped tone, "He called personally. Said he'd very much like to speak with you."

Well, if Merle called personally it must have been somewhat important. Carol felt for Mr. Dixon's assistant. To put it mildly, Mr. Merle Dixon was an ass. A powerful ass, but an ass nonetheless. He could be crude and rough. That godforsaken accent of his. Sometimes she swore he exaggerated it just to intimidate and annoy. If you didn't know how to handle him, he would send you reeling.

Carol knew how to handle him. Whatever he gave, she gave right back. Fortunately, it was rare she had to deal with him. Their socials circles rarely, if ever, crossed. However, he did deal with her father on occasion.

She knew Merle would love getting his hooks into her father's empire given the slightest chance. What was he up to now? She grimaced in resignation, "Okay. I'll call him."

Flipping through his notes, Glenn shrugged, "That's all for now. Are you sure you're feeling okay? Forgive me for saying so, but you are out there today."

Again Carol offered a smile. If Glenn only knew. He was perceptive. She'd have to be very careful around him. "I'm fine Glenn. Let's call it a day. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Get some rest Carol. I'll see you tomorrow." Glenn leveled a last stern look and then hustled off, leaving Carol in silence. Silence to think about the evening ahead. Daryl would be here, tonight, to pick her up. They would be using her driver, but he was meeting her in the lobby. Every time she thought about it her stomach did flips. Was he as handsome in person as he was in his picture? What if he was boring? What if SHE was boring? She supposed that didn't matter. She was paying him after all.

When she had called Michonne earlier to express her fears, Michonne had only laughed. "Just think of him as an accessory sweetie. He's on your arm to make you look and feel good. That's all. Besides, I'll be there. If you look like you are drowning, I'll save you. Promise. Just relax and have fun, okay? "Carol had meekly agreed. She would think of him as a living, breathing Birkin.

First she would get calling Merle out of the way, then she would figure out the rest of the evening. As the line rang, she hoped he wouldn't answer. _Please let him be out to lunch, taking over an empire, or whatever it was Merle Dixon did during the day._ "Hello Darlin.'" Came his rough drawl, thick as honey, on the other end.

Crap. Steeling herself, Carol replied, "My assistant informed me you called three times."

"Awww….didn't mean to seem too eager Darlin'. I just have a bit of a dilemma. My daddy will be in town and wants him and me to get together with your daddy. I was just thinking it would be nice if you could come along to lighten things up a bit. With you being back on the market and all. It's been a while, I figured you would be ready to stick a toe back in the pool. "

Carol seethed, "What's the matter Merle. None of your mistresses available?" Merle was a known womanizer. He'd already burned through two marriages and it was common knowledge he had at least two mistresses at any given time. She remembered an incident at one of her father's garden parties. Rick had been mere feet away and Merle had come up behind her, grabbing her waist as he whispered close in her ear, "Why don't you lose pretty boy and get yourself a real man?" She didn't know what had disgusted her more; the fact he pulled that where Rick could have seen or the unbidden tingle and warmth in her lower belly that had no business being there.

"I trust you got my donation?" Merle purred, breaking her reverie.

What a shit. "Yes, Merle, thank you. It was most generous." Carol could see where this was going. Tit for tat.

"So come on then, humor me. Maybe afterwards I can take you up to my farm and we can…go riding." Carol sighed, did he really just say that? Crude joking aside, she knew riding, Dressage in particular, was Merle's passion. Unfortunately, due to a freak riding accident, he had lost most of the use in his left hand. It ended his brief riding career, but he still kept a farm and breeding facility for his prized Hanoverians.

"I didn't think you were broke to ride, Merle." Carol coolly quipped. "I'm sorry, I have to go. Just give Glenn the information and he'll see if my schedule is clear. I thank you for your donation and take care."

"Sounds good darlin'. You have yerself a fine evening." The line went dead.

Now with that out of the way, Carol thought, on to the important matter. What to wear for this evening? Nothing too sexy, nothing too stodgy. After careful consideration, she opted for a silky black backless Yves Saint Laurent slip dress. It was classy but sexy. She selected her Tiffany's Opera necklace for a hint of glimmer and sparkle and her brand new Louboutin Crosspiga's. Her feet would probably be murdering her by the end of the night, but damn she'd look good. She kept her make up simple and classy opting for smoky eyes and red lips. She finished with a light spritz of her signature scent, Yvresse. Light, subtle, sexy. Few people knew the fragrance existed, but she always got questions and compliments when she wore it.

Dressed and primped for her "date" she nervously checked the time. There was only 30 minutes to go.

Daryl stretched and yawned. He always liked to grab a quick nap before an assignment because he never knew how long the night would go. Part of him didn't want to leave this cozy silken cocoon. A quick check of the time ensured he had plenty of time for a shower and perhaps a drink.

He padded to the bar and poured himself a splash of scotch. He wanted to do a bit more research on Carol. He found himself more and more intrigued by her. She was wealthy as hell, not bad looking. What made her dial up an escort service? A dare? Some dark secret? Was she really a lesbian? With that short hair…maybe? She was a socialite but she seemed…different. She devoted a lot of her time to charities, battered women's causes in particular, along with some animal rescue groups. The scotch warmed its way to his belly as he scrolled through the various articles and tidbits. Aside from that Rick character, it didn't seem like she dated around too much. She didn't have that "spoiled princess" vibe a lot of these rich women he knew had. There really wasn't any dirt on her. He read and re-read the articles he found on her. His phone alarm chirped telling him it was time to get ready.

He studied his closet. For a gallery event, he wanted something stylish but maybe a little artsy. He selected his trusty black Prada pants, cream RL Purple label cashmere sweater, and to finish his Hermes leather jacket. Stylish but edgy. He looked like a respectable date. None would be the wiser that he was being paid for his company.

He double checked the address Andrea provided. He was to meet her in the lobby. The address certainly was a prestigious one. A quick check of the clock indicated it was time to go. He shotgunned the rest of his drink, slung his jacket over his shoulder, and headed out the door. It was show time.

Carol's phone buzzed, making her jump. It was the security desk. "Ms. Peletier. There's a gentleman here for you. Says his name is Daryl? He said you were expecting him. Shall I send him up?"

Daryl was here. Her heart slammed into her chest as she softly replied, "I'm expecting him. No need to send him up, I'll be right down. Please tell him I'll be there shortly. Thank you."

_Well, this is it_, she thought as she gathered her evening bag and shawl. Drawing a deep breath to settle herself, she pressed the button to summon the elevator. The doors whispered open and she stepped inside. Punching the L button, it seemed to take an eternity for the elevator to descend to the lobby.

As the doors glided open, she saw him right away. He was standing casually, fidgeting a little, just like any date would, with his jacket slung over his arm. Her breath caught. From here he was every bit as handsome as his picture_. _

_Just an accessory. Michonne will be there. It will be fine. _That was her mantra as she glided through the lobby, mustering every ounce of class and reserve she had. As she stopped before him, he regarded her with a slight twist to his lips, his blue eyes sparkling under the fringe of chestnut hair. "Ms. Peletier?"

She nodded, words lost to her. He smelled of leather and a cologne she could not identify.

Extending his hand, he smiled. "Hello Ms. Peletier. I'm Daryl. I'll be your date for the evening."


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl arrived at the lobby to Carol's building with time to spare. He always liked to get there just a little early; he would never keep a client waiting. He would have preferred to meet Carol at her door, but Andrea's policy on having the first meeting in a public place was ironclad.

He took in his surroundings. The place smelled of money. Lots of it. It smelled the way Neimans, Barneys, Saks smelled. The smell of privilege. The smell of ridiculous wealth and a million ways to spend it. He breathed deep and informed the security desk he was there for Ms. Peletier. The guard smiled and called to inform Carol she had a visitor. Smiling the guard nodded to Daryl, "She's expecting you. She is on her way down."

Daryl thanked the guard and strolled over to look at the art work while he waited, keeping an eye on the bank of elevators. He was so curious about this woman. Why she would call an escort. From what he read about her, it seemed they would have plenty to talk about. He had a feeling this was a "beard" date. It would be nice if it was an early evening. He was itching to go through his photographs again.

He heard the elevator chime and watched as the doors slid open. _This had to be her,_ he thought. He wasn't prepared for the vision that glided from the car. First off, she was way taller than she looked in the photographs, though it could be due to those heels she was wearing. She wore a little black dress that complimented her figure to perfection. Not too short. Not too matronly. A necklace of diamonds glittered like a chain of stars around her neck, draping tantalizingly over her breasts. Silver Fox indeed. He saw now why she was called by that name as she glided to him, a smile breaking over her lips.

She had a definite presence about her, he felt it immediately. His turn in the modeling world had exposed him to such confidence. Few possessed it but those who did could command respect, ignite desire, and make the world theirs. Her eyes held his tight, never wavering.

For the first time in a long time Daryl Dixon was almost speechless. Almost. Extending his hand, he smiled. "Hello Ms. Peletier. I'm Daryl. I'll be your date for the evening."

Carol thought her heart was going to fly out of her chest and go skittering across the floor. _You picked him out. You saw his photograph. You liked how he looked. Why are you surprised?_ Her thoughts raced as she extended her hand to grip his. His hands were soft, smooth, cool. He wasn't nervous in the least. Just an accessory. That's all. This will be over in a few hours.

Daryl never let her hand go as he asked, "Do you have a car?"

Oh God. The driver. The car. In the excitement and nervousness and all the planning she had forgot to tell her driver she needed him tonight. She never had Glenn do it because she wanted to avoid unnecessary questions.

Her face burning, she replied, "I do but I forgot to tell my driver. I'm so sorry. We'll have to take a cab. I'll call him now so he'll be able to take us home."

Daryl gently squeezed her hand and replied with a laugh, "Okay. You call your driver and I'll hail us a cab."

There was always a queue of cabs waiting outside her building, so it wasn't really a problem. More of a silly embarrassment than anything. Carol quickly called her driver to make arrangements for him to pick them up at Michonne's gallery.

Once settled in the cab, Carol's mind raced, trying to think of a topic of conversation. She wished they were in her limo, a drink would be nice about now.

Daryl seemed to read her thoughts. "Just relax. Don't be nervous. I don't bite. Well, unless you want me too." he added teasingly.

At that Carol blushed. "You're probably wondering why I…hired you." Carol fiddled with her necklace, the diamonds sending sparks of light in the dim interior of the cab.

Daryl shook his head. "I really don't question my clients. Your reasons are your own Ms. Peletier. I've seen it all. Trust me. I don't judge. I'm whatever you need me to be. Arm candy. Confidant. Distraction. Whatever it is it the why of it isn't any of my business." _Actually I want to know all about you Mrs. Peletier. What are you up to? _

Carol smiled, "Deal. I think you'll enjoy the evening. My friend's gallery is amazing with so many talented artists. I warn you, she'll probably try to con you into buying something. She can be very…persuasive."

Soon enough the cab pulled up to their destination. Daryl paid the fare and hooking his arm through Carol's, they made their way inside.

Once in familiar territory, Carol actually started to relax. She spotted Michonne right away, chatting up some artist whose name Carol could not remember. When Michonne saw Carol with her "date", her face broke into a wide, knowing smile. Carol braced herself. Michonne had better behave herself if she knew what was good for her.

Michonne excused herself and made her way over to Carol. Giving Daryl a slight nudge, she whispered, "That's Michonne, the owner of this gallery and my friend. Just smile and nod, okay?"

"You got it", Daryl replied. "Trust me, I can handle myself. Relax."

Michonne looked stunning as always, and all Carol could think of was a sleek panther as she glided toward them.

"Well, Carol how nice to see you…and your date." Michonne paused expectantly.

Carol sighed inwardly then smiled, "This is Daryl."

Daryl extended his hand which Michonne grabbed enthusiastically. "My, Carol, you certainly know how to pick them. Very nice to meet you Daryl. Please, enjoy yourselves. Bar is behind you and please browse and buy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a deal to close." With a wink at Carol, she was gone in the crowd.

Carol turned to look at Daryl. Again she marveled at how put together he was. He seemed completely comfortable, quietly observing the crowd.

"See anybody you know." She asked quietly.

Daryl laughed, "What, do you think I'm afraid I'll be busted?"

Carol's face reddened, "No. I didn't mean it like that. I know you dabble in art, photography. Do you know any of these people?"

Daryl shook his head. "No, I don't but it would be nice to make some contacts. Care for a drink and then we can look around a bit?"

Carol nodded. "Yes. I'd like that very much." _It would almost like a normal date_, she thought to herself. _But it won't be. I paid him to be here. My accessory_.

As the evening wore on, the fact that Carol's date was bought and paid for was pushed further and further to the back of her mind. Daryl was the perfect date. He was polite. She found they had quite a bit to talk about, and he even caused her to throw her head back in laughter a time or too. He was sure she had a drink if she wanted one. In short, he was fun and she was enjoying herself immensely. This was exactly what she needed. More than a few times she caught Michonne looking at them, and when Carol caught her eye Michonne would wink and give a knowing smile. Carol laid a bet that the first text from Michonne would hit before dawn, and would continue until Carol offered up all the dirt.

As predicted the Louboutins were starting to kill Carol's feet. She tried to soldier through it but the evening seemed to be winding down and she knew her time with Daryl was about up. Checking her watch she saw there was about an hour left. It was time to go home. Her driver was probably waiting out front as it was. She grabbed at Daryl's arm, and as he leaned down to hear her better, she was again struck at how damn good he smelled.

"You ready to take off?" he whispered.

"Honestly, yes. My feet are killing me." With a smile she added, "All for fashion."

"Well, your feet have made a noble sacrifice, because you look stunning." Daryl smiled.

Carol blushed at the compliment. Steadying herself, she replied as calmly as she could, "Thank you." She had forgotten how nice it was to be out in the company of a handsome, engaging man. Even if she cheated a bit and paid for this date, her felt her confidence had grown. It was time to forget her heartbreak. She was moving on.


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl found himself intrigued with Ms. Peletier. As they circulated the crowd, it seemed she knew everybody. She had a warm word and a smile for everybody. Nobody questioned about who he was. Nobody recognized him. If there would have been a client here, Andrea's rule of discretion would have come into play and neither would have acknowledged the other. He stayed close to Carol's side, every once in a while he would place a proprietary arm around her waist. She would shoot him a shy smile and blush. She probably photographed beautifully and without warning his mind wandered to a photo shoot involving her. In the park. Done in black and white.

As the night wore on, he wondered what Carol had in mind for their date. He was forbidden, absolutely forbidden, to ask for or engage in any type of sexual activity without the client initiating it. Another steadfast Andrea rule. The client initiated. Always. If Carol asked, he would deliver. But she was the one who had to do the asking and watching her he doubted she would. She had…how could he put it… an innocence to her. She was sweet. She was nothing like the other privileged snots he had escorted. Rude, snapping at their staff, noses up. _She has true class_, he thought to himself. What the hell was she doing with him? Surely she could have any eligible bachelor at her beck and call, eating from her hands.

He watched her in that dress that clung to all the right places. He found that her silver hair had grown on him. He had to admit at first it put him off. It suited her. It was different, daring. Hell, it was sexy. Her blue eyes were piercing. When she looked at him he felt a physical jolt. As the evening wore on he began to wonder what her lips tasted like, how that silver hair would feel as he ran his fingers through it to pull her closer. _You better watch it. She's the type that stays with you, after the assignment is done._

That would be the worst thing. He was an expert at compartmentalizing. He would admit there was a time or two when he had grown a bit fond of a client, but in the end he was bought and paid for and they would move on and he would move on and that would be the end of it. On occasion he would see them at a function and their eyes would meet, perhaps a brief flicker of a smile. Nothing to betray what they had once shared. It was the nature of his work and he accepted it. He prided himself on separating the heart and physicality of it.

He found the evening passed far quicker than he expected. He noticed she seemed to be having trouble walking and figured her shoes, stunning though they were, were the cause of her discomfort. He was surprised at the pang of disappointment he felt when she stated it was time for them to go. They said their goodbyes to Michonne (who made sure to shake his hand again) and made their way out. He slid his arm around her waist. She stiffened momentarily, then settled closer next to him.

Carol's driver was waiting for them, smiling and opening the door to her limo. No smelly cab ride home at least. Carol sighed with relief at being able to sit and give her feet a rest. She looked over at Daryl and not being able to help herself, started to giggle.

Cocking an eyebrow, Daryl asked, "What's so funny?" That was another thing he found he liked about her. She had a sense of humor and didn't seem to take herself too seriously.

Shaking her head, Carol could only reply, "This. This whole situation. It is just…so unlike me." She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling. "You know what though? I had fun. I really did. Thank you for a lovely evening."

Daryl nodded, "You are welcome Ms. Peletier. It was my pleasure. I must ask why you are ending things early. By my count I believe you have about an hour left with me."

Carol blushed, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like I was dismissing you. It's just that, well, I'm heading home." Carol became aware at how close Daryl was sitting. She fiddled with her shawl. Her mind was spinning. Here was the part she was fretting over. The public part of the date thing was fine but now what? Did he even do that stuff? Those questions in that damn profile sheet. What was the point of filling out that stuff if, well, sex wasn't a part of the package. Damn Michonne for convincing her to do this.

What did she do? Ask him? Make a move? Would he make a move? Would he even want to do anything with her? She paid him, he had to. Didn't he?

She couldn't imagine him naked, he looked magnificent fully clothed. The way that sweater strained against his chest. That leather jacket framed his shoulders magnificently. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with somebody. She'd be lying if she denied she had her needs.

"How's your feet?" Daryl asked quietly, breaking the awkward silence.

Carol shrugged. "I'll live. I'm used to this."

"May I?" Daryl asked gently touching her leg.

"I'm sorry?" Carol was grateful for the dark interior because she was sure her face was glowing red.

"Here, let me see your feet. Relax. I'm not going to tickle you. Here, put your feet on my lap." With a smile Daryl gently eased Carol's feet into his lap. "Let's get these off, shall we?" With that he gently began to undo the straps of her shoes. The feel of his fingers whispering of her skin made Carol shiver. He was just touching her feet but the sensation ran up to her core. She trembled.

Gently he removed the offending shoes and gently began to rub her feet. It felt like heaven. Carol felt her shoulders sag with relief. "Daryl, really. You don't have to."

"Oh, but I do." His voice was heavy with mock severity. "I must be sure my client is satisfied. I don't want to have to hear from Andrea that I didn't please. She'll make me clean Mook's litter pan for a week. Maybe two weeks."

At that Carol couldn't help herself and began to laugh. It felt good. "Don't worry. I'll be sure to leave all positives on the comment card." At that they both chuckled.

Daryl continued to gently knead Carol's aching feet. Sadly she realized they were almost home. His touch was igniting feelings in her she hadn't had in a long while. Who knew a stupid foot rub could be so erotic? Those hands were so strong…her mind wandered to how they would feel on other parts of her body.

Feeling bolder, she inquired, "Do you like doing this?"

Daryl's head jerked up, "What? Rubbing your feet? Not bad work I guess."

"No. I mean, this, escorting wealthy ladies about. I'd think you would have no trouble snagging yourself a sugar mama. I'm sorry. I'm prying." Carol stared at her lap.

Daryl laughed softly, "Ms. Peletier, I do what I do because yes, I enjoy it. To a point."

Carol nodded her head. She was done with questions. She didn't want to be rude.

"Daryl?" She asked softly, shyly. _I have to say it or I'll lose my nerve. He's an accessory. Nothing more. I hired him._

Daryl continued gently rubbing as he answered, "Yes?"

"You have to do what I ask, right? I mean, I hired you, right?"

Daryl looked up. His lips quirked in a half smile, "Yes. Ms. Peletier. I have to do what you ask. Within reason, of course." His firm fingers continued their work, now working their way up her calves, rubbing her aching muscles to relief. Carol felt like she was going to melt right there. Hell, this was worth what she was paying him.

Carol sighed, "First off, stop calling me "Ms. Peletier." You make me sound like some dowdy teacher. Call me…Carol. Please."

"Yes…Carol, I will do what you ask." Daryl responded softly. _That's right. You have to ask me. Tell me what you want. Nasty thing called solicitation if I ask you. And believe me if it was up to me I'd be fucking you here til next Wednesday._

Carol steeled herself. Swallowed hard. Then she leveled her gaze at him. "I'd like you to join me in my suite for a drink."

At first Daryl said nothing, just continued kneading and caressing Carol's calves. Then he smiled and with a nod answered "As you wish…Carol."


	7. Chapter 7

Carol smiled softly. "I better put my shoes back on. We are almost there."

Daryl reached down and gently slipped her shoes back on her feet. "Wouldn't want you padding through your lobby barefoot." He gave her a wink.

Her driver held the door for her as she exited. Carol's stomach was in knots_. Best not to overthink it. Just stay calm and let things happen as they may._

Daryl gently took her arm with a smile. "Shall we?"

Carol only nodded and headed toward the elevator. For a brief moment she worried she had forgotten her key that unlocked her floor as she fished in her handbag, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as her fingers closed around the tiny silver key.

As she strolled through the lobby with Daryl on her arm, Carol felt bold. Daring. Hell, she felt sexy. For the first time in a long time.

As they boarded the elevator, she noticed Daryl hadn't released her arm, and instead pulled her close to his side as if he wanted to make sure she wouldn't slip away from him. Was he anxious as well? Surely not, but there definitely was a current of energy between them. Every time her eye caught his, he offered that smile. A smile that made her heart trip just a bit, her belly flutter, and began to kindle a warmth between her legs.

The elevator door silently slid open to reveal Carol's expansive suite.

Daryl was accustomed to wealth. He grew up in a privileged home. Courted privileged women. Yet the sight of Carol's suite gave him pause. Done in shades of cream. Simply but elegantly decorated. It managed to be classy, yet welcoming. Classy art adorned the walls and lush Persian rugs graced the floor.

"First things first, these are coming off." Carol leaned over and undid the straps to her shoes, kicking them off with a sigh. "Let me take your jacket." She again paused to marvel at how well Daryl filled out his clothing. He handed her his jacket. The leather was butter soft and warm. She felt her cheeks flush yet again. She shrugged off her shawl and placed it with Daryl's jacket on the teak entryway table.

As Carol headed over to the bar, she called over her shoulder "What would you like to drink?"

Daryl watched as Carol walked. For whatever reason, he just loved the way she moved. The way that little black dress moved. She entranced and intrigued. As for the drink, Daryl liked to be sober. He liked to maintain control. It wouldn't be fitting to get sloppy drunk and unable to perform to the satisfaction of his client. He had a few drinks at the gallery and felt pleasantly mellow, but completely in control and fully aware. He smiled as he, too, made his way to the bar, "A glass of water will do for me."

Carol paused, "Are you sure. I really don't drink the hard stuff but I know my House Manager keeps the bar well stocked for when I entertain." She sat two crystal Lalique tumblers on the bar. They gleamed as if cut from ice.

Daryl shook his head then murmured, "I really don't need a drink." Then placing his hand on hers, he gently added, "If you do maybe I should just go."

Carol stared at him. What was that supposed to mean?

Sensing her confusion Daryl closed his hand gently on hers, drawing it to his lips to kiss it softly. "What I mean is if you are unsure you want to do this and need….a bit of liquid courage perhaps it is best if I leave until you are sure. I don't want any regrets. I want you to enjoy this. Completely."

Daryl knew she was nervous. It radiated from her. He also knew she knew what she wanted but was afraid to ask for it.

It was actually a bit refreshing. Usually his clients got to the nitty gritty pretty fast. All business, making him feel like the piece of meat he was. As this wasn't Carol's usual game she would need special handling. Extra care. While part of him relished this challenge he didn't want her to do something she may regret.

"Why don't we just go sit down so you can relax?" Gently he led her to the couch. A couch which was clothed in cream silk damask from Italy and which probably cost more than some families earned in a year.

Shyly she settled next to him. "I…I want to do this. I just don't know how. I'm sorry. I'm probably acting so silly and foolish." She knew she was stammering like a fool.

Daryl said nothing. He just looked at her. Let her talk it out. The cream silk of the couch setting off her black dress. The chain of diamonds sparkling like a strand of shimmering dew drops. Her silver hair and how it curled in pixie-like wisps about her face and at the nape of her gorgeous slender neck.

He tipped her face to his and whispered, "Just let me show you how. Just relax." He leaned down and kissed her softly, tentatively almost, on the corner of her mouth. He usually abstained from kissing clients, but he knew Carol would need this. Besides, he had been dying to taste those lips all night, so in a way it was serving his own selfish purpose.

Carol sighed softly when Daryl's lips touched hers, her body sagging into the couch. Whether it was in surrender or relief he could not tell.

He gently brushed her jawline with his fingertips as he allowed his mouth to wander fully onto hers. He gave her lips a teasing caress with his tongue. Her lips parted, permitting him full access. She tasted as sweet as he thought she would.

He broke off his kiss to whisper, "Tell me if you want to stop, otherwise I want you to just relax, okay?" _That's right. Relax. I'll be what you want me to be. Confidant. Arm candy. Whore._

Carol could only nod. He had merely kissed her and she felt as if she was on fire. Her inhibitions were swiftly melting away. When he resumed his kiss, she hungrily accepted.

Daryl knew how to read a woman. He had to. His success as an escort depended on it. He would let Carol take the lead. Let her tell him what she wanted even if she didn't use words. He moved from her lips to her delicate neck, feeling her pulse fluttering under his lips. He heeded her soft sighs and murmurs, drawing his hand up her side, gently pulling up the fabric of her dress. She did not protest, did not push his hand away when he gently skimmed the tops of her taut thighs. She gave a low moan of approval as he again claimed her lips, her tongue eagerly slipping into his mouth as he whispered a touch between her legs.

She was drenched.

He shifted his position so that he was hovering over her. Her kisses became more voracious, hungry. She was opening up. Accepting what he had to offer her.

He slid her dress all the way up, exposing her to him. She did not disappoint. She was wearing lacy black panties. He had seen cobwebs that had more substance to them. The hoarseness of his voice surprised him when he rasped, "I'm going to take off your dress, okay."

She only smiled and nodded.

Jesus, she was gorgeous.

He slid the dress over her head leaving her in only her lingerie_. I should be paying her for this privilege._ The thought skittered through his mind, surprising him.

Her bra was a matching companion to the panties. Her eyes were shining and her lips were parted slightly. He could hear her soft, panting breaths.

She was ready.

He knew time was running out. He wanted to be sure she got her money's worth.

With a smile he slid down her body. Gently he eased her thighs apart. One more time he asked, "Do you want me to?"

Carol only nodded.

He complied, placing her long legs over his shoulders.

He kissed each creamy white thigh before sliding the gossamer veil of her panties to the side to allow him access to her most secret of places. He gave her a gentle, teasing lick. Slow to torment her just a little. He knew his craft well.

She gave a little keening cry low in her throat.

He delved his tongue deeper. Tasting her. Savoring her. Worshiping her. His sole purpose now was to give her pleasure.

She gasped softly.

He lost himself in her then, giving her slit long sweeping licks, pausing to tease her little pearl, before sweeping back down teasing her folds. Her juices flooded his tongue.

Carol was lost in his sweet torture, forgetting herself. Forgetting she paid him to do this. Allowing the ecstasy to surge through her and carry her away. She wound her fingers in Daryl's' silky hair, wantonly pushing him to her, urging him to go deeper, faster. The rough feel of his whiskers against her sex coupled with the sweet fire of his tongue was almost too much for her to bear.

She had thought when women made a lot of noise during sex, it was all for show. She had always enjoyed sex, wasn't shy, but she never was one to make much noise. Tonight she understood. The feelings Daryl's tongue was creating between her legs were unlike anything she had ever known. She never wanted it to end and found herself urging him on, cries and gasps of pleasure bursting from her unbidden and uncensored.

He complied with her urging.

Daryl knew she was close. He quickened his pressure and intensity, taking her where she needed to go.

Carol clenched tight and had her sweet release crying out his name.

Daryl lifted his head from his task, his job done. He smiled as he watched her body quiver with pleasure.

Carol's head was spinning at what had just happened to her. She felt delicious. Slowly she floated back to reality, coming to the realization she was clad only in her underwear and Daryl was still perched between her legs. Her dress? Where did she put her dress? Daryl, sensing her need to cover herself, reached to the floor where he discarded it, picked it up and handed it to her.

"How was that?" was all he said.

What could she possibly say? Her mind was blown? She wanted more? Much more?

"Fantastic." was all she could manage in reply.

Daryl rose from his place on the floor to once again sit beside her. He loved the flush on her cheeks and he loved that he was the one to put it there. He could still taste her.

As Carol arranged herself, Daryl placed his hand on hers and whispered, "Time's up. I have to go."

Carol only nodded and replied, "I know."

She shakily got to her feet. She wanted desperately to just take him by the hand, lead him back to the master suite. She knew that wasn't an option. Not tonight.

She walked him to the door, handing him his jacket. What do you say to an escort after he has done what he came to do? Smiling shyly, she managed to whisper, "Thank you for the wonderful evening. I'm…I'm glad I did this."

Daryl looked at her, still looking all disheveled and sexy as hell. _There's so much I could show you,_ he thought to himself. _I can take you places you never knew existed._ He prayed she would call on him again. Sooner rather than later. Deep down he had a feeling that this was a one-time thing for Ms. Peletier. She was far too classy a lady for the likes of him. Taking Carol's hand yet again he kissed it softly, almost reverently. "Good night Carol." _I wish I had met you under different circumstances. _

"Good night….Daryl." Carol softly replied as she watched him go. After watching the elevator door slide shut, she stood there for a long time thinking about what the hell just happened.


	8. Chapter 8

Carol stood shaking, staring at the closed elevator door, willing it to open with Daryl standing there within. Of course it didn't happen. He was gone. She was probably out of his mind as soon as those doors glided shut.

She slowly walked over to the bar where the two crystal tumblers still sat. She wasn't much of a drinker, but she tonight she was making an exception. She poured herself a shot of bourbon and sipped it slowly. As the amber liquid traced a warm path to her belly she replayed the evening, every delicious detail, over in her mind.

She never thought an escort could be so…engaging. Daryl seemed far too genuine to be what basically was a whore. True, he possessed the looks and was incredibly charming, both of which were important factors when working with people. He was so gentle, warm. When he favored her with a smile she felt it was genuine, that he wasn't acting. She enjoyed talking with him. He even managed to make her laugh. It was so easy to forget she had paid him for his time. But pay she did. She had to remember that and extinguish whatever ember of attraction there was immediately and remain realistic over this matter.

She found her legs were still shaky after what he had done to her. He never even took off his clothing. She had no idea what he looked like naked. She found herself smiling at that. She paid all that money and didn't even get to see him naked.

Carol found had no regrets. She didn't feel dirty or shameful. She felt empowered. Exhilarated. She made a mental note to send Michonne flowers.

As she finished the last sip of her bourbon her phone buzzed. As predicted it was Michonne with what was probably the first of many texts. As always Michonne cut right to the chase, asking: _So how did it go? Did you seal the deal?_

Smiling, Carol replied: _It went just fine. A lot of fun. He was quite satisfactory. Thanks for the suggestion._

Michonne responded immediately asking if Daryl was still there and when Carol responded he was not, Michonne simply stated: _Are you going to hire him again? _

Without hesitation Carol responded: _Yes._

Daryl paused in the lobby. He had never been so rattled after an assignment. Usually as soon as his assignment was finished, and that client's door clicked shut, Daryl's mind was already focused on other things.

Ms. Peletier, however, got under his skin. Badly. She had him so fired up he had a hard time walking and to his embarrassment he had to hang back and discreetly let his dick settle before moving to where people could see him. _Get a hold of yourself. She's just another client. A job. The job that is over and finished. _

On the cab ride back to his apartment thoughts of her kept swirling through his mind. He was so distracted he almost forgot to do his check in text with Andrea. That would be all he needed, her flipping out because he didn't touch base.

With a sigh, he slouched back in the cab's seat. It was a far cry from Carol's plush limo when she had her long lean legs draped in his lap.

_Stop it. You'll probably not hear from her again. You were just a distraction for her. You gave her what she needed_.

Try as he might he couldn't banish her from his mind. He tried to distract himself by sorting through some photos and answering a few emails. Still thoughts of her silky skin, those shining eyes, the way she threw her head back when she laughed kept pressing insistently into his thoughts.

She was still on his mind when he slid between his silken sheets, taking his hard length in his hand, and stroking until he finally found relief.

Daryl was awakened to the strident trill of his phone. Fuck, he forgot to put it on vibrate. For one heartbeat he thought _Carol._ But that was silly. Carol didn't even know his last name let alone his private number. Fumbling he grabbed it to see who was calling at this ungodly hour on a Saturday. It was Andrea.

Perfect.

"Yeah." He mumbled, still half asleep.

"Well, good morning to you too." Andrea's smooth voice purred over the line. "Just following up. How was your engagement with Ms. Peletier? Any issues?"

Andrea wasn't one for small talk.

Daryl swallowed. Just hearing her name made his heart hammer. Dammit. "No it was fine. She's very…lovely. I can see why they call her the Silver Fox. She's a very charming woman."

"Excellent. Your funds have been transferred to your account. Also, while I have you on the line, I have a little proposal for you."

Inwardly Daryl groaned. Andrea's proposals could be…interesting to say the least. Interesting and very, very lucrative.

"Yeah, well before you get started I have something I think I need to discuss something with you as well. You know I've been cutting back, taking fewer clients. Nothing against Ms. Peletier or the assignment last night, but I think I'm done. I don't think I can do this anymore. My head just isn't into it and I think it's time for me to move on." He paused. He sure as hell didn't mean to blurt that out like that. The silence seemed to go on for an eternity. He was just going to ask Andrea if she was still there when she responded in a clipped, "I understand Daryl. I really need to discuss this assignment with you first. Then we'll address your concerns. Meet me at my office at 2. Today. Don't be late." Then the phone went dead.

Daryl threw the phone on the nightstand and burrowed back into the silken sheets. It was too early for this shit.

_It was funny how one little event could change your entire outlook,_ Carol thought to herself, practically skipping through the lobby of her building. She was finished with her Pilates class and was ready to tackle the day. She definitely wanted to call Michonne later, perhaps even meet for dinner, because she wanted to discuss the prior evening's events and pick Michonne's brain on how to set up another date. She felt girlish about the whole thing, but after that taste last night she knew she wanted more. Smiling to herself she thought, _Daryl was doing the tasting_, which in turn made her blush anew.

As she stepped onto the elevator and unlocked her floor, she found herself wondering where Daryl lived. Did he live nearby? What if she ran into him? Would he even acknowledge her? Was he even allowed to?

The elevator came to a stop and opened to her foyer. Time to get changed and see if she could get her chef to whip up something for breakfast. As she made her way to her bedroom (noting the white couch with a blush) she saw Glenn seated in the study with a large white box.

Glen acknowledged her with a chipper, "Morning Carol. Early workout today?" Glenn always seemed to be in a good mood. Did that man ever have a bad day?

Carol smiled. "Yep. Figured I'd get it done and over with. Lots to do today. Hey, it's Saturday. Why are you even here?" Then pointing at the box, she asked, "What is that?"

Glenn shrugged, "I wanted to stop by and pick up some paperwork I forgot. As for the box, no idea. Doorman said it was delivered this morning. It's for you, obviously."

"Who is it from?" Carol took the box from Glenn.

Again Glenn shrugged, "Open it and find out. Looks like shoes. It's from Alexander McQueen.

Carol gave a slight frown. Alexander McQueen wasn't on her top list of designers. That designer was always a bit too edgy for her tastes.

A sample maybe? Only one way to find out.

She undid the silken black ribbon binding the lid to the box. She lifted the lid and carefully peeled back the tissue paper nest and couldn't suppress a soft gasp.

Glenn peered into the box and could only murmur, "Oh boy. Those look like they might bite."

Nestled within was a pair of patent black platform pumps. That in of itself wasn't very remarkable. What set these apart was the series of metal studs adorning the back.

"Who are they from?" Glenn ventured, flipping the lid over, then fussing through the tissue. "Ah, here we are. Here's a card." He waved the envelope triumphantly before passing the small white rectangle to Carol.

Carefully she opened the envelope and slid out the card. It read: _Though you might like to wear these for our date. M_

Carol closed her eyes and shook her head flatly stating, "They're from Merle."

Glenn barked out a short laugh. "Merle? Seriously?"

Carol could only shrug and give a sheepish smile. "I agreed to have dinner with him. Remember when he called the other day? That's what he wanted. For me to meet him, his father and my father for dinner. I told him to have his assistant call you. I take it she hasn't yet?"

Glenn's face reddened, "Yeah, actually she did. I was going to discuss that with you but then with the package and all... I believe it is for next Wednesday, 7:30ish I believe. I'll confirm that for you. I know she said Merle was going to "collect Ms. Peletier."

Carol could only shake her head. _Collect me?_ Like a trophy. Leave it to Merle. She knew his game. He loved intimidating. Rattling cages. He knew these shoes would make her blush and get her flustered.

"Would you like me to return the shoes for you? Heck, are they even the right size? " Glenn was already gathering the tissue and ribbon, preparing to neatly package the sinful shoes and return them to the designer.

"No, they are the right size." She was sure the designer had her measurements on file, even though she didn't wear their items, just in case. Merle was luck. Hell, the Carol from a few days ago probably would have sent the shoes right back. Carol prided herself as one to give back whatever Merle dished out. However, with her little "awakening", she felt a little bolder than usual. She'd wear those fucking shoes. She had a black Fendi dress she had bought on a whim that was a bit sexier than her usual and she never gathered the courage to wear it. These shoes would go perfectly with it.

"No, I'll wear them. I want to see the look on his face when he realizes it's going to take more than a pair of scandalous shoes to rattle me." Cocking her eyebrow at Glenn, she gave him a smile, "Now give me the details of this little dinner engagement."


End file.
